Narcissus, the King and I
by MLaw
Summary: Napoleon relates to Illlya how he first met the THRUSH femme fatale, Narcissus Darling. Pre-saga


"Napoleon...really, you and Narcissus Darling? Is it not bad enough you bed Angelique the bitch?" Illya complained.

 _There was little else he could do as he and Solo were ummm, a bit tied up at the moment, thanks to the likes of Narcissus. Then again the UNCLE agents considered themselves lucky to be alive considering she had a bunch of trigger happy henchmen working for her._

 _Napoleon and Illya had been snooping around to see what the THRUSH femme fatale was up to when...oops. They were caught in a trap. Literally that, as a cargo net dropped from a ceiling withough warning, enveloping them. It was like being caught in a spider's web as it was coated with some sort of sticky substance._

"I know you detest Angelique, but there's no need to refer to her that way."

"Napoleon that is her last name."

"No. I happen to know her last name means, well though it's not very complimentary...the dog."

"Ah but if one uses the French feminine form La Chienne, since she is a female...it means the bitch."

"Any excuse to be Mister Nasty, huh tovarisch?"

"I am not being nasty, I am simply stating a fact, but speaking of nasty or more precisely, Narcissus; you once said you knew her four years ago during our last encounter with her and I quote, 'You're just as beautiful as you were four years ago in Portofino.' Would you care to elaborate on that statement?"

"Since when are you interested in my love life?"

"Well if you could come up with a better topic of conversation while we rot down here, be my guest," Illya huffed.

"You mean you really have no gadgets to effect our escape, like a knife tucked in your shoe tip, a razor hidden behind your wristwatch, or a miniature vial of acid to burn through the ropes?"

"Not at present. I was relieved of all my accoutrements. What about you?"

"Do you think we'd still be sitting here if I did Illya?"

"One never knows with you my friend." Kuryakin dryly said.

"Smart aleck Russian. Why I oughta…"

"And do what?"

"Tsk," Solo clicked his tongue, swearing the man was sneering at him, but he just let it go. Why frustrate himself; iIllya was doing a fine job of it already.

"Now before we went off topic, you were going to tell me how you met our hostess for this evening?"

"Well if you insist," Napoleon smirked as he remembered his first encounter with Miss Narcissus Darling."

"Will you stop grinning like a wolf that ate the mouse and …"

"Cat, Illya. That's a cat that ate the mouse."

"Who cares, either way the mouse has been eaten."

Solo tried not to chuckle. "I was on assignment there in Portofino guarding of all people, the actor Rex Harrison. He was staying at his villa he aptly named San Genesio after the patron saint of actors."

"You were guarding an infamous personality known for playing rotters, rakes and cads?" For what reason?" Illya seemed perplexed.

"Well how very British sounding of you," Solo quipped.

"I try, now back to your story."

"You know of course, Rex means 'king' in latin, and he really liked to play the part, just like a modern day Henry VII. He changed his first name from Reginald to Rex because he realized as a child that an absolute monarch was what he always wanted to be. He and Henry Tudor had a lot in common by the way; they were both tyrannical and though Henry had six wives, Harrison was working his way up that ladder as well. His wives and lovers were dropping like flies, dying or killing themselves, or he was divorcing them."

"Napoleon…will you please stop rambling and get to the point? How did you meet Narcissus?"

Solo grinned, knowing he was finally annoying his partner.

"Well, anyway, Mr. Harrison had received several anonymous threats upon his life and since he and Mr. Waverly were long time friends, though I don't understand how; my assignment was to see that nothing happened to him while he was staying in Italy, sort of as a favor to the Old Man."

"Why do you say that about their friendship?"

"They remained friends in spite of Mr. Harrison's unpleasant personality; I guess Mr. Waverly being in a position of power might have come in handy for a thespian known for getting himself in hot water from time to time. As a person, he's an abusive, philandering, self-serving, gluttonous egomaniac with a blind indifference to the thoughts and feelings of others. Nobody escapes his temper or his tongue lashings, including yours truly."

"What did you do?" Illya's accent suddenly became a bit more Russian.

"I walked away from the assignment. First time I ever did that in my life and thankfully Mr. Waverly understood."

"No I meant what did you do to receive a tongue lashing and what does this all have to do with Narcissus?" Frustration was clearly evident in the Russian's voice.

"Keep your shirt on; I'm getting there."

"That is a ridiculous staying, why would I remove..?"

"Illya do you want to know about Narcissus or not?"

"Pardon my interruption, please continue with your lengthy narration," he let out a barely perceptible snort.

"Oookay, now about our lovely hostess. She happened to be a guest in the villa, I presume having caught the eye of its owner, who was known for his numerous liasons with beautiful women."

"Sort of like you." Illya interrupted.

Napolen ignored the remark, continuing instead with his story. "I found her lounging on a chaise out by the pool, clad in a very revealing bikini. I'll never forget her first words spoken to me."

"Well, who are you handsome and why aren't you putting tanning lotion on my back? I do need protection from the sun; it can cause wrinkles you know."

"How odd, you remember those exact words verbatim, though it does sound just like her."

"At the time I didn't know any better. I just saw a beautiful woman who was in need of some assistance."

"Do not tell me, she was the one who threatened the actor?"

"No not at all. She wasn't even a member of THRUSH back then. Narcissus was definitely an ambitious woman though, presumably trying to hitch her wagon to a star the likes of Harrison."

"I take it that did not go well since she became a member of the family Turdidae. Well," Illya thought out loud."That is technically not corrects as Turdidae is after all a family of passerine birds that occur worldwide…"

"Illya are you done?" Solo was getting annoyed.

"Quite." Kuryakin knew damn well what he was doing to his partner, and couldn't resist a little payback. "So did you and Narcissus...umm, well you know."

"What do you think? Unfortunately there were consequences for that little rendezvous and she was summarily kicked out of the villa after a pretty vicious tirade on our host's part. That's where the tongue lashing came my way as well. It wasn't long after that I left, though it was of my own accord and I don't think Rex was sorry to see me go. Shame Narcissus eventually aligned herself with THRUSH, but then again they stroked her ego the way she liked I suppose."

"Napoleon are you ready to leave now?"

"I was born ready. Why?"

Illya held up his freed hands. "Voila!"

"I thought you said you didn't have anything to use to free yourself?"

"I did, but my fingers are in good working order. While you were talking, I concentrated on loosening the ropes. Now enough chit-chat, time to go."

Kuryakin quickly undid his partner's bindings, and scurrying up the stairs; they made their way out of the building to freedom.

"Narcissus is going to be quite perturbed that she's been abandoned," Illya said as he slipped behind the steering wheel of their car, parked only a block away.

"Yep, rejection isn't her strong suit. Gee I wonder if being rebuffed by Rex drove her to THRUSH? Guess we'll never know." Solo got into the passenger seat of the silver convertible, slamming the door closed after himself. "Whew, glad it didn't rain. We left the top down."

"What do you mean 'we'? As I recall you were the one driving last."

Napoleon shook his head, laughing just a little. "Home James and don't spare the horses." He waited for his partner's usual quip at not understanding American sayings, but for once there was none.

The Russian floored the gas pedal, taking off down the road with a screech of rubber.

"By the way," Illya suddenly spoke."Did you ever notice Mark Slate bears a strong resemblance to Rex Harrison?"

"No...do you think?" Napoleon shook his head.

.

* reference to: "The Project Deephole Affair"


End file.
